Two Years
by arty97
Summary: After the final battle of Homestuck, John and Rose go through various dream bubbles, discovering what they can of other timelines. This one turns out a bit differently than most. One-shot.


((Disclaimer: I own neither Homestuck nor the characters mentioned in this fic.))

"This looks familiar."

"What?" He adjusted his glasses and glanced out the broken window. Just another empty mailbox with a red flag, hanging down in a way that both gravity and chemistry wouldn't deem possible.

"I said, this looks familiar. But I don't… why? I have never seen it before."

"Huh. I don't feel like that at all. Maybe it was in a dream bubble?"

She shrugged, and her scarf waved a bit in the wind. It had been a birthday gift from her friend, before… well. It didn't matter.

Two years was plenty of time to move on.

"No," she answered distractedly. "I don't remember that. I guess it's just me."

He nodded, eying her with concern. "Are you okay, Rose?"

"Yes, I am perfectly fine. Let's just keep moving."

"You're the boss."

They made their way through the dusty room. So many old posters. They reminded her of dead dreams, in a way. Defaced to the point that you could barely see what was underneath.

Eventually, they decided to split up. With only an hour or so left until they had to return, it was time to get to business.

She stayed in the room. Something drew her to it.

She caught her breath as she looked over in the corner.

A bunny. One that looked as though it had been through time and space, only to sit there, smothered in dust. A trail of stuffing poked out of one side.

This was stirring up memories that she'd rather leave hidden.

_Focus on Kanaya. And Roxy, and John._

**A flash of green. A bright smile.**

_No. No, no, no. I will not accept this._

**Beads of red dropping into the dirt. Glasses broken.**

_Oh my God, no. Please, no._

**A sword, pulled away from the body. Loyalty, revoked.**

**Bad dog. Worst enemy.**

Her eyes, sliding wildly from side to side like pinballs, searched frantically for anything to calm her down.

Her eyes lit upon something that only made it worse.

Scattered CDs, under the desk.

**A dark smile, a return stab. The most exercise he's had in weeks.**

**Sunlight. A glint of life in his shades.**

**A quiet mutter, probably a rap.**

**Held up by a sword, dropped to the ground.**

**The weapon, broken in half. The connection, complete.**

**Final words.**

**"Great knowing ya, save me some aj."**

**Martyrs for the cause. **

Rose screamed, the memories of her best friends pulling her under.

He came running up the stairs, dodging the odd harlequin. "Rose! What is it?! What's wrong?"

"Oh my God," she whispered, and collapsed crying.

He knelt down, rubbing her back. He was used to it, now. All of them still had nightmares of the last battle. None of them, from Roxy to Jane, had come out the same.

Who could blame Rose if she had the occasional breakdown?

A few minutes later, she quieted. "I am good now, I think. I apologize."

"Don't worry about it! What are best friends for?" He smiled. "Are you okay to keep going?"

"Yes, of course. Continue with what you were doing."

He grinned again and headed back to the gray, bland bedroom he had tripped out of.

Back to normal.

Rose continued on, sifting through the remainder of items. A broken desk, a burned-black computer with a pesterlog still fizzling on it. She eyed it, but it was impossible to make out.

Finally, she turned toward the door.

Green, white, grey. Curvy font, proclaiming "S'burb."

"Oh my…" she breathed. She couldn't even get the words out this time.

"What?" He called up, sounding worried.

"This is your house."

He trundled up the stairs again and looked at her, starting to get a little impatient. Yes, he was used to the occasional breakdown, but now the girl was just plain going mad.

"Rose, we both know that this isn't my house. Remember? I live with Dirk, Karkat, and Jake. You live with Roxy. How could I live here?"

She shook her head, furious with herself for both overreacting and not being able to explain herself clearly.

"You used to live here. I know. I remember."

He flinched. Remembering was a taboo subject. You didn't simply "remember" something. Some things were just too big to handle.

There was absolutely no need to bring it up. His testiness broke out in his voice, though he continued to talk slowly.

"Rose, I never lived here. It may look like I lived here, but there was nothing before meeting the trolls, and the alpha kids, okay? It is all fucking sunshine and butterflies. Let's go," he finished, "there's nothing to recover from here, and they're probably waiting for us."

"But-"

"I don't want to hear it, Rose. We're going."

She looked around one last time, wishing she could grab something, anything. A souvenir from their past life- one without deaths and murder and fear.

Four kids, playing a game.

John slammed the door. Behind it, an already ratty poster with a green house on it fell to the floor.

Two adults, losing their grip.

Two years, never enough.


End file.
